Betrayal of the Body, Surrender of the Mind
by meikouhaikitsune
Summary: How is it, that once our body's tamed, our minds soon follow? How is it possible though, when the one taming us is a being that we hated with every fiber of our being once?
1. Chapter 1

It was terrifying to off on your own, especially when you were young. It was why most adolescents didn't runaway. It was even more terrifying to be shipped into an almost different world.

The worst of it all was when you were sworn to kill someone, you knew nothing about. Perhaps he had killed your parents, but it had been said even by the best of men that they had been casualties of war; just like everyone else. If they were murdered by the Dark, they were casualties. If they died in battle; it was murder.

Yet as Harry ducked past another curse, he had to wonder how long it would take for him to be just another casualty or just another murder. With the way the curses were flying towards him, he had to guess very soon.

Ron was dead, as was Remus, Moody, McGonagall, and others he couldn't name or didn't want to. They were being repressed. There were so few of theirs left on the battle field that Harry had to wonder what the point of fight was.

They would be over run in the end, he could tell, and by then he would be dead – the only reason the fighting would stop. He couldn't imagine Voldemort doing anything other then giving him death.

Yet when his mind finally processed that thought he was being bound. His body went stiff, and instead of falling like he was used to, his body began to float before he was looking into the red eyes of his worst enemy. If he could spit, he would, but as it was the man in front of him grinned evilly like only Voldemort could.

The fighting stopped and the Order and the others amoung them seemed to recognize defeat as Death Eaters bound them.

"Harry Potter, we are going to have a lot of fun." Voldemort purred before Harry's world went dark.


	2. Fed My Heart Lies

ATTENTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Since this story will probably and most likely become very GRAPHIC the unedited version will be posted on my LJ Community and Original Forums so that Non-Lj members can also read it.

**community DOT**

**livejournal DOT**

**com/**

**fakeprophecy/**

OR

**Puppetwriter DOT proboards81 DOT com -**_ It will be found under the category 'Spells on Napkins'._

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**Warning: Sexual interactions with two males. Sexual situations. Hurt/Comfort. **

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The scene of the Dark Lord's bed chambers was one of curiousness. Lord Voldemort was, of course, lying in his own bed. The silver and forest green silks falling around his groggy form. There was another figure in the bed, something that made the scene a rarity. The Dark Lord never, ever, took anyone to bed.

The Dark Lord's arms wrapped around the boy; one hand going to the cock that was his for the taking in both of their nude states as his other started to tease the boy's nipples. At first the body tensed up before falling into almost a liquid state as a loud moan ripped through pink lips. Emerald eyes opening hazed in lust. His hips bucked against the hand leading him into an euphoria he had never even come close to before.

He wanted to scream….

He needed a name.

He wanted to scream a name….

He looked behind him as he was coming. Instead of the scream of rage he had intended, he screamed 'Voldemort' in bliss. Breathing heavily he was pushed onto his back, Voldemort looming over him, his eyes dilated and his breathing odd. Harry immediately froze up and stayed that way; realizing he was in no position to do anything.

He tensed further when Voldemort's lips descended on him. Small licks and tender bites that started from his belly button up, were placed over him and his body slowly relaxed against his will.

'No…stop….don't….get away from me….bloody prat….Morgana's Tits…he's going to kill me….I want to kill him…I will kill him…get away….don't do that…no….no…' but all Harry could get out was a whimper as the sensations over took his body.

Voldemort was sucking on his neck, one hand fondling him, a moist figure entering him. 'No…never….please…..merlin no!'

The kisses moved behind his ear and after his lobe was bitten playfully, he was being kissed. The worst thing though, was he was kissing back. His body arching into all of touches, loud moans, he realized, falling from his lips.

He felt pleasure shoot through him, and then white in his eyes as that finger pushed deeper. He was coming again, and Voldemort was whispering things to him. Things his heart would not let him hear as he fell into sleep.

Voldemort grinned wickedly at the body beneath him. It would take a while, but as long as he could see that body, writhe, in pleasure. It would be worth it.


	3. Beginning of My Descent

Harry sighed deeply and rubbed his face into a soft pillow...Wait... He snapped up, looking around almost animalistically as his heart raced. As cliché as it seemed, even to him; everything came racing back.

Voldemort was standing at the end of the bed he was in. A smile that could burn fire, on his face, with a snap of scaly fingers, Harry's wrists were bound and he was pulled out of bed; his hands leading him towards Voldemort.

"Hello, my pet," the man hissed, he drew back as if bitten when he felt something wet. Harry had spit at him.

"Get out of my face, you bloody bastard. Let me go! Can't even stand up to me on your own Voldemort, you have to tie me up again!?" Harry screamed, his heart had seemed to jump start, his hands were shaking, and he was so nervous he could've been sick.

"Potter, Potter, Potter, if you don't watch that mouth of yours I'm going to sew it shut." Voldemort hissed out, grabbing the boy's jaw as he wretched him eye to eye. "Be lucky, I could have killed you. Now you'll only suffer the rest of your life in humiliation." Harry whimpered when the man brutally attacked his mouth. Sharp fingers were digging into his arms, and then suddenly he was on his back as a leg kicked his own out from beneath him.

He gasped harshly, the force of him hitting the ground knocking the air out of his lungs. He continued to gasp in pain, but with Voldemort trailing his hands softly up and down the inside of his thighs he could do nothing but let those gasps turn to quiet mewls.

The pleasure was short lived. Voldemort's soft caresses turned into red hot pain as the man dug his blunt nails into the skin below his hands so harshly blood began to ooze out freely.

He screamed, and tried to thrash, but the dawning horror, which he would never remember, became known, he couldn't move his hands; he couldn't move his body!

"I could be any thing you want Harry, any thing you ask for could be yours." Voldemort said softly as he touches became warm again, and the pain blurred hesitantly into pleasure.

"I could make your darkest dreams, desires, and wants…a reality." Voldemort smirked as Harry moaned softly, biting his lip.

"N-never you bastard…get your hands off me!"

"You bloody brat," Voldemort hissed bringing his hand back and smacking the boy across his face, the sound reverting loudly.

"All ya-" another smack stopped Harry in his taunting, and then another until his face was on fire and tears he would never admit to were robbed from him. Then his face was being caressed, and he wanted to cry harder, because his body didn't know what he wanted anymore, and it ashamed him that he was leaning into this cool touch on his fiery skin.


	4. Physical

Its not much, not even a completed idea, but I didn't know how to finish the meeting, or end the scene somewhere else.

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He was being paraded around like an animal, and there was nothing he could bleeding do about it. Voldemort had spelled him into silence, held him down on his bed, and when he refused to wear the bloody collar, currently around his neck, Voldemort had eased his movements, thrusting down on Harry. It took a moment, but before long, Harry was a pile of goo on the bed, his back arched and his mouth open slightly in bliss. Then he heard the snap, and all contact left.

He had blown his lid, quite literally. He had hurled a vase at Voldemort's head, screaming and yelling as he continued to throw things at the Dark Lord. Once Voldemort had gotten over the shock of actually being attacked physically, Harry had been put under Crucio for a good twenty long…painful…agonizing minutes.

"Your Lord has finally triumphed, my Death Eaters; Harry Potter is under my control, the light has fallen, and as has the Ministry. Our goals have been completed, what we set out to do, has been completed. NOW WE REIGN!!" Voldemort roared as he watched his Death Eaters break into celebration as he sat on his throne, a hand moving to lace into Harry's hair. The younger man tensing considerably when he felt the touch, but that didn't stop the Dark Lord, he continued to trace his fingers through the boy's hair. Simple patterns and small loops of his fingers, twirling the boy's hair around them, and slowly, he could feel the boy relax. How odd? He hadn't thought it would take so short a time.

It was almost as if the boy was completely starved of touch, of attention. Anything he did, any small touch and Harry's body reacted immediately. Desperately. And it was working so greatly to his advantage, if the boy reacted this quickly, this early. He soon wouldn't even have to touch him anymore; the boy would be seeking his touch.


	5. Subsconciously

Thank you very much: Kaida Nyghtwalker and Dysperdis

Harry tensed as the man's hand landed on his head. He was expecting an attack, he was after all in a room of Death Eaters. The meeting was pretty bland. It sort of skewed his perspective of Voldemort.

He thought the meetings would be mindless torture or something to that effect, but they weren't. They were just meetings.

His skull started to tingle with the older man's administrations and he sighed deeply.

"Report Lucius…..then we……I will not…..don't disappoint me."

Harry didn't know whether he was blocking it out, or it just wasn't there. He felt like he was underwater, and the pressure just kept coming, but he could breathe.

Would he snap soon? Would he drown? Or would he just for get to breathe?

He hummed slightly tilting his head into the man's hand when it paused briefly, recognizing a chuckle as the movements began again.

At times like this, when he was at the man's mercy, and he was betraying everything he'd ever known since entering the Wizarding world, Harry liked to look at the man as Tom.

Tom hadn't killed his parents, Voldemort had, and Tom didn't turn into Voldemort for a very long time.

He nuzzled into the man's leg, wrapping his arms around on of them in a lose hug as he settled down, relaxed. How was that possible?

Bellatrix was looking at him, not exactly hatefully, more so that she finally thought he was where she belonged. Maybe she was right, there were no responsibilities here. No worries. It was like an endless void.

"Until next time, my Death Eaters," Voldemort shouted out, and all sense left Harry.

This was Voldemort…that wouldn't change, and Harry wasn't willing to change for the man.

He realized everyone had Apparated away after he was forced to look up by the hand in his hair.

"You were very good, pet,"

Harry almost hissed at the title, giving a squeak of surprise when he was lifted into the man's lap.

"You deserve a reward, I believe," and Harry moaned loudly when his lips were captured with Voldemort's and the man's hands stroked his thighs lightly. His movements were bold and seductive.

Voldemort traced his tongue against the other's lips. His hand dangerously close to Harry's slowly growing erection. He turned the boy so he was straddling him, instead of sitting across his lap. His hands traced the boy's thighs, making their way to his arse before squeezing lightly; pulling the younger closer.

Harry broke the kiss to tilt his head back and moan, Voldemort marveling at the scene. He thrust forward against Voldemort, his mind completely gone. He couldn't believe he was doing this, but it felt so good. His body wasn't lying…he couldn't lie. Not about this. He was on fire, and Voldemort was the cause, and it felt so bloody fantastic.

"Please," Harry all but whimpered.

Voldemort smirked, pulling the boy forward harshly before stopping.

"Please what?" he hissed in parseltongue.

"Move…please….ah….anything," the smirk only grew as Voldemort leaned back in his chair and pushing forward, Harry practically riding him as moans fell from his mouth.

"Such a perfect pet," Voldemort whispered to himself as the younger arched, head thrown back as he came, a scream on his lips.

AGAIN...probably not to night...but this is posted on my LJ, and sometimes this is cut on and not on LJ.


	6. Senses

**A/N: Any updates will be completely slow or none at all. I'm spending the summer at Harvard. So I'll be all work and no play. - sorry everyone! You can get the completed but unedited fic at or you can try my livejournal since that'll be update more than ANYTHING.**

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Voldemort took him every where: to death eater meetings, to his study, to meals, to the bathroom, to bed, everywhere. He was around the man constantly. He was never alone. Not since he'd been taken over two weeks ago. The man would always be in sight. Or rather, Harry would always be in the man's sight.

Voldemort continued to touch him, continued to do what he wanted to Harry. Harry, shamefully, couldn't stop him. It always felt so good, and why suffer pain when Voldemort's caressing touches felt so much better.

Then one day he didn't take Harry, and Harry felt cold. Very cold, and he lay in bed all day, staring at the far wall from the bed. He didn't think; he didn't leave; he just laid there until he was sleeping again, and Voldemort still wasn't back. His stomach had churned at the thought of the man being gone and he hated it.

He slept more then than he ever remembered sleeping. It might have been because he couldn't sense Voldemort's magic, or even because his own hadn't been used lately. It was most probably due to not eating though.

Now that he was lying there feverish, he realized Voldemort had been gone for almost three days. Ill lucidly he remembered that he probably wouldn't survive much longer if he didn't eat or drink something. It was probably why he only felt like sleeping. He let his eyes close again and was too tired to even let his breathing change in panic when a cool hand was placed on his forehead.

He only turned into it, murmuring something unintelligible when the cool hand moved to his neck, the stark contrast of temperatures positively delightful to his senses. Then darkness pulled him under again.

He woke completely alert, completely alive…he wasn't languid or anything. His body didn't feel heavy. He looked around the room and smiled as his eyes landed on Voldemort next to him…

A few seconds after he smiled, he scowled. What was wrong with him? Why…was he able to throw everyone else away so quickly? He was brought out of his musings when Voldemort shifted towards him, and an arm almost slithered to where he'd originally been laying.

He jumped and drowned.

He lay back down, nudging under the arm so he could cuddle the owner, nuzzling against the man before the warm and calmness took him back under.

He'd missed Voldemort…and it didn't unsettle him to admit it.

He woke that morning with Voldemort there. In bed. With him.

He only breathed deeply and pushed himself more closely to the man. The arms around him tightened and Voldemort rolled, pulling Harry to rest on him as the older wizard lay on his back.

"You left," Harry mumbled.

"You almost died, pet."

Harry shrugged slightly, nuzzling against the man. All thoughts just kind of halted there and the arms tightened further.

"Perhaps I should leave more often,"

"No!" Harry practically shouted as he lifted his head from the man's neck as a dark chuckle rose from it.

"Indeed not then," Voldemort murmured as one of his hands slid from the small of Harry's back to his neck, Voldemort pulling the younger's face to his with it.

Harry practically keened into the kiss, his own tongue venturing out slightly as the hand on the small of his back ran up and down it slightly, almost unconsciously. Harry only arched up into the touch though, fisting his hands in front of him and in the man's loose shirt.

Voldemort himself almost groaned at the feel of the body moving against him, and willingly! He smirked against the younger wizard's mouth, Harry whimpering slightly.

Perhaps he would leave again, if only to come back to this. He'd be sure to have the house elves feed and care for his pet.

Harry writhed against him, desperate for any type of contact he could get as he pushed against Voldemort. He keened, loudly, almost whimpering as he held onto the man beneath him. He nuzzled Voldemort's neck again, sucking frantically on the man's pulse point as Voldemort's hands tightened on him. One lacing into his hair as the other grabbed his arse roughly. Harry only moaned loudly, bucking forward against the man, giving a desperate whisper when pleasure shot through him so quickly his vision blurred.

Both of the hands on him were on his arse now, Voldemort pulling and pushing him against his own erection as the older man settled a leg up, planting his foot on the bed so Harry could grind against him; their bodies tangling together euphorically.

The younger man moaning loudly as he arched his back, pulling his mouth away from Voldemort's neck to gasp for breath, thrusting harshly against the man beneath him, his own leg pushing against Voldemort's arousal.

Voldemort's hands moved down to his thighs, squeezing tightly as Harry thrust against him hard and fast.

Harry was moving his mouth in open and sloppy imitations of a kiss to Voldemort's lips, capturing them harshly and awkwardly as he tried to kiss the man. His technique clumsy and inexperienced but eager nonetheless, Voldemort soon taking over the kiss, dominating the younger man as he pushed Harry to the side, rolling on top of him.

His movements were harsh as he thrust against the green-eyed man, kissing him harshly, thirstily. Harry was mewling beneath him as he arched off the bed, trying to keep up with the older man, but then his world exploded and pleasure coursed through his body as quickly as flying could free him and then nothing really mattered.

And Voldemort had caused it all…


	7. I'll Behave

Dedicated to **Nocturnal Bastard** and **Sin Maxwell and Co.**

Harry looked through half lidded eyes from his spot on the floor, his body leaning heavily against Voldemort's leg. He wasn't really listening, he didn't feel like it. He really didn't care about politics. He didn't care about them when he was after Voldemort and he didn't care now that he was with them. The only thing he cared about currently was the strong hand running through his hair and caressing his neck firmly causing him to bury his face into the older man's leg as a shudder ran through his body and his breath hitch. He was seriously resisting the urge to moan or arch himself against Voldemort's leg. He had some dignity left, but only enough to keep himself from doing it in front of death eaters.

Soon he didn't have to worry about that though, and Voldemort was pulling him into his lap, a small smirk gracing his features. "Very good boy," he murmured in Parseltongue, his fingers gripping Harry's hair slightly and tipping the younger man's head back with it. Harry's own hands came up willingly and he heard a pleased sound issued from Voldemort as he buried his hands in the man's hair, pulling him closer as the man latched onto his neck, sucking almost greedily.

Harry arched slightly and moaned, allowing his body to be played. He wanted to get close; as close as possible. He didn't want this to be taken away. Not after this, no; he needed it too much. His body craved it. He went out of his way now to make Voldemort happy. He hated being left alone in the manor while Voldemort left for days on end. He couldn't handle it, and he didn't want to see if, for some reason, he could.

"You've been so good lately, pet." Voldemort murmured once he pulled back, letting his hands run firmly up the younger man's back, then down again, coming to rest on Harry's waist pushing him back slightly as the green eyed man whimpered slightly. "Stop it." Voldemort commanded, and Harry did, allowing his body to be moved however Voldemort wished it.

The man watched his pet, his Harry, as the young man let him move his body like a puppeteer would a marionette. His eyes narrowed as he gripped the young man's hair cruelly at the nape of his neck. "I wonder why that is so, my pet, this radical change..."

Harry only whimpered, knowing the words weren't poised as a question. He didn't protest though and keep his arms limp where they lay against Voldemort's chest where they'd fallen from his hair. The only part of his body that tensed was his back, and only because of the ruthless grip Voldemort had on his hair.

"You have my interest piqued, pet, what is it you are planning? Do you miss me so much when I am away?" Voldemort hissed, his grip becoming so harsh Harry felt blood trickle down his neck.

"Master..." He whimpered.

The hand in his hair let go immediately and Harry could tell from the look on Voldemort's face that it was out of shock.

Harry recoiled almost immediately as he saw the look on Voldemort's face. Had he bollixed it up? Would Voldemort be angry? Harry couldn't exactly tell, he'd ended up on the floor in his panic, looking up at Voldemort as he supported his weight on his hands, leaning back on them.

He'd thought it'd make Voldemort happy...Hadn't that been what he'd wanted? To break Harry? To have him as a pet? To own him? Harry didn't think he could take rejection, not now. So, like when he was at the Dursley's and he needed to detach himself; he closed his eyes and waited.

He waited for the pain he knew would come with such a transgression. He waited and flinched when he felt a weight settle on his legs. Then there was a hand on his throat, and his arms buckled. He expected pressure. To stop breathing. Then the hand moved over his face, and into his hair, avoiding the abused flesh by his nape. Then there were lips on his own, and a weight settling on him that was anything but threatening.

Harry mewled, tentatively bringing his hands up to touch Voldemort, his breathing hitching as one of Voldemort's hands grabbed one of his own, lacing his fingers with Harry's and then pushing it against the ground as he let Harry do what he willed with the other.

Harry could feel the man's excitement and was more than aware of his own as he thrust back against the body rutting against his own. His breathing was erratic and his body was on fire. He wanted this. He actually wanted this. "Please?" he moaned.

Voldemort smirked against his neck, biting harshly as Harry arched into him quickly with the contact. "Say it again, Harry," he hissed.

The younger man didn't give it a second thought. "Master."

Each and every time he said it Voldemort rewarded him. First with kisses, then touches, then skin on skin contact and before Harry knew what was happening has was looking down at Voldemort. The man's hands entwined with his own as they braced him and he leaned back slightly onto the man's bent legs. Grinding himself down Harry loved the effect it had on both of them.

Then his muscles went taunt, his back rigid, and he could feel the nails digging into his hips as Voldemort arched up, pushing further into him.

Then reality snapped back into place and Harry collapsed against the older man's chest and both their breathing, fast and uneven, met Harry's ears.

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I have two new stories:

**My Phobia**: Harry only feels safe when he's in his Cupboard or with Tom. The Dark Lord can't always be around though, and his cupboard isn't there anymore.

**These Eyes**: Harry learns at an young age that he can see what others can't. When he gets to Hogwarts he meets a charming young man by the name of Tom Riddle, but really, no one else can see him, yet.

I'd like to know which one I should post, coz it's one or the other. Not both. Tell me what you think!


	8. Decadence

Oh, I must say. Thank you ALL for the WONDERFUL reviews. I think that's the only reason I updated so quickly to be honest. Of course though, you MUST thank** Sin Maxwell and Co.** A very wicked authoress who helps in all the best ways!

There's been a change. To keep fanfiction from my personal life. You can now find my unedited versions of any fic at

www. puppetwriter. livejournal . com

It is of course friends locked. There's intrustions! Enjoy!

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Harry arched as he woke up, an arm pulling him tighter against a firm chest. He looked over his shoulder and saw Voldemort. The man was staring at him through half lidded eyes, an interested look on his face. Harry only smiled slightly, more to himself, and wiggled so he could turn to face the man. Just as he was closing his eyes again, his face level with the older man's chest, a finger lifted his chin and a pair of lips met his own.

He kissed back tentatively, suddenly unsure of himself. Even though last night his Master had been please, would he still want him now that he'd finally broken? He was so much more focused on his thoughts than on Voldemort that the man pulled away, his eyes narrow.

"Pet?"

"Broken..." Harry murmured.

"What?" Voldemort demanded quietly.

"I'm broken, like when you smash a bottle to the ground, but I want you to glue me back together...but I'm afraid you won't want me once I'm fixed to your liking." Harry said quietly, keeping what little Gryffindor courage he had intact by speaking his mind.

He let his gaze fall slightly, anywhere but Voldemort's face. The man wouldn't have it though as he wretched his face up so forcefully that Harry winced and flinched back.

"You'll have to continue to prove yourself to me. I don't keep toys just because they do as I say the first time." Voldemort said coldly before dropping his hold and leaving the bed.

Harry felt his bottom lips quiver and his stomach spasm in true fear and despair. He had...upset his Master...Tears pricked at his eyes, finally flowing unchecked down his pale visage. What had he done? What good was a pet whose Master resented their very being?! For surely Voldemort must resent him now. He had angered him. His quick gasps came shakily and he was just able to get to the cool linoleum of the bathroom floor before collapsing into heavy sobs. What would he do if Voldemort didn't want him? He didn't want anyone else! He didn't HAVE anyone else!

His hot face felt good against the tile but it did noting to quell his every growing, festering grief. He wanted to tear his eyes right out of his head and gift them to Voldemort because he wanted, truly and with every fiber of his existence, to please his Master. He needed to please his master once more. His ignorance had angered him so perhaps his knowledge could please him once more? The Order! Voldemort had not yet learned who was in the Order. He even had their biggest supporters' bloody address! The Weasleys.

Could he give them up? Could he give up the family that had treated him like their own since day one just for his Master's happiness? In a heartbeat. He could even take Voldemort there. With how many of the Weasleys there are, if they were to kill them, if he were to kill them FOR his master, it would take almost half the Order! Harry grinned, an expression of future pain but also one of childish joy. He would please his master again. He would, if it took the rest of his life.

He stood from the floor and made his way to his room. He...he could do it, he thought to himself as he stared a quill down. Watching in fascination as he finally got the quill to write something out for him. He called a house elf to send it off before he went back into the bath room to take a shower.

Voldemort sat in his office; he was going through his post for the day when he came across an elegantly bland letter.

"Dear Lord Voldemort, I have something you may wish to acquire. Meet me at your Father's tomb in three quarters; you may want to bring a few Death Eaters."

The man hissed as he burned the letter in his hand. He stood from his desk to check on his pet. It only took a few minutes to get back to his rooms and he saw his pet lying on his stomach, a towel wrapped around his waist as his face was buried in Voldemort's pillow. His breathing deep and even. His pet wouldn't have even known he'd left.

Harry smiled once he felt his master leave. He rushed to put on clothes as he sent another house elf off with a small note. He made his way to the only floo he knew was open and took a deep breath before he stepped in only to stumble out.

"Harry!" he could feel hands on him, exclamations of shock and need. He pulled on someone's arm as he made his way outside, and as they were known, the rest of the family followed him.

"Harry! What are you doing here? How are you!? We thought you were dead? Oh, Merlin, after two and half months we assumed the worse! Oh, Harry…" Hermione and the others prattled on, asking questions he had no intention of answering.

"Harry, what's going on?" Ginny asked as she took a step back, noticing the look she'd had in her second year at Hogwarts.

He turned to them with a slight tilt of his head, a slight confusion in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. It was empty though and it wasn't long before Voldemort was standing in front of the seven wizards and witches gathered there.

His face immediately distorted in anger and Harry closed his eyes with a whimper.

"What exactly do you think you're doing, Potter?" The Dark Lord spat, coming to grip the boy by the nape of his neck. He was expecting one of the Weasley's to charge the duo until he realized they were stunned.

"They're for you, Master, they're Order members. The twins and Charlie may join us though. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I wanted it to be a surprise...I wanted to please you." Harry murmured quietly as he turned his face to the side.

The hand on Harry's face fell and with the contact the stunned Weasley's and Hermione were released. There was silence; a tense silence where the accusation 'traitor' hung in the air so heavily Harry almost felt like he was drowning. He hadn't betrayed them though...He was Voldemort's. His body told him so. It loved his Master. It was only that his mind was finally catching up. It was so much easier to give in. It was so much easier to end all the pain. It was the most Gryffindor thing he could do with the most Slytherin of motives.

"How could you do this, Harry!?" Ginny screamed, her voice broken as it crack, almost as if she was being tortured and holding in the screams of her pain.

He turned to her, a frown marring his features. "I didn't do anything, Ginny."

"YOU BETRAYED US!!" She screamed, tears falling from her eyes in anger, in hurt; most of all though, in betrayal. Her hands were clutched to her heart like a life line; like it would hold her together in her moment of despair.

"I...didn't," he whispered, turning to look at them again, broken. That's what his face displayed, clearly, for the Weasleys in front of him. "I did what I had to...I'm his. That won't change." He shook his head, as if to get the very idea of it changing out of his mind.

"That's how it's always been. I just didn't realize it." He tapped his scar. "We're connected, and maybe it marks me for that specific reason. Maybe it's just a cool scar, but right now, I wouldn't even think to help you. I wouldn't know why I would need to help you. I'm one boy. Maybe that's weak, but right now. I'm choosing to become the decadent person; one who is selfish. I'm not sorry though. I'd do anything..." He finished. His voice low. It was clearly heard though as the faces changed. Betrayal, hate, hurt, fear, pain.

"I didn't betray you. I barely remember you..."

"We took you in!" Molly sobbed. "We took care of you when those muggles wouldn't. You were our son and this is how we're repaid."

"I remember pain, and suffering; running and hiding to survive; people I love and knew dying. I was a coward for giving in, but I'm not sorry. No one even tried to find me."

There was a silence again, and Harry thought it might have been fueled with guilt. No one HAD come to find him. No one had even tried. They assumed him dead.

What kind of comrade, brother, sister, uncle or guardian didn't fight? Ones that didn't care, he told himself and he turned, making his way towards Voldemort, standing slightly behind the man. His place was behind his master. He didn't know when that was suddenly a fact, but he wanted to please the man, and this was the best way he knew how.


	9. Accepting Darkness

"Take their wands." Voldemort ordered.

Harry didn't think twice as he cocked his head and turned towards the Weasleys with his hand out stretched. The wands came to him, like magic came to him. How things seemed so much clearer now that he didn't need to think.

"Master," he confirmed softly. The man smirked and the Death Eaters that had arrived with him seized the Weasley family present. There were six snaps of apparation. Then Bellatrix came to greet Voldemort.

Harry watched, calmly, and yet he could feel the jealousy rise in him, and he could swear he saw Voldemort's pleasure deepen marginally.

Harry flushed with the knowledge though, and his heart sped up. He'd acted rationally and now he didn't know hat to do. He'd pleased his Master, but yet he dreaded the reward. He felt nervous. Sure, he'd gone through with it, without thinking about the consequences, but now…now that it was through, he was slightly scared; slightly nervous, and jumbled. His stomach felt heavy and light at all the same time. Like something was weighing it down, but he was going to throw up as well.

Suddenly he heard the snap of apparition and his head snapped up, almost as if someone clapped and his body needed to know what the sound was. A reflex he knew everyone had; one that was basic instinct. Almost like people turn or flinch when a gun shot goes off in front of them.

"Harry," the Dark Lord purred, turning to Harry once Bellatrix was gone.

"Yes?" He responded immediately, his eyes catching Voldemort's gaze.

As he stared at the man, he couldn't quite remember why he feared him, why he'd been so terrified of him, why he'd hated him. This being wasn't emotionless. His emotions just worked differently.

There was no love, or affection. There was want, lust, possessiveness, and triumph. He was wanted though. He was… not needed, per se, but definitely wanted. He was…owned; for Voldemort though, that would be the closest to a happily ever after he'd get, if such a thing existed.

It was different though. He got the truth, however cruel it was, and he wasn't sheltered. This was the Dark, or rather, this was Voldemort's side compared to Dumbledore's. He couldn't really decide whose was worse. His face was scrunched up as he thought and suddenly there was a hand on his face, a thumbing running over his lips as they scrunched up towards his nose.

He looked up slowly and met the man's gaze again, there was curiosity.

"What are you thinking, pet?"

Harry hesitated.

"The truth," Voldemort's voice had hardened as the hand on Harry's face tightened.

"I was thinking that…there's really no Dark and Light. There's only you and Dumbledore; and, I can't decide which is worse, but I…" he hesitated before clenching his jaw. "I like being here though. The truth is cruel, and if you need to be disillusioned to survive, you shouldn't waste your breath."

Voldemort smiled, as if he was…proud. It wasn't even a smirk. It was an acknowledgement of his thoughts.

"Come." Voldemort beckoned, holding out his hand.

As soon as Harry set his own in the older man's, they disappeared with a snap. Harry was only allowed to look in surprise at Voldemort's chambers for a dew moments before he was slammed him against a wall and a knee was shoved between Harry's own.

"Pet," Voldemort growled, his hands grasping the younger man's upper thighs as he pulled Harry up by them, settling him against his knee as he pushed him roughly against the wall. Voldemort's body almost encasing Harry's with their size different.

The feeling though, the feeling of Voldemort's body against his own; a hard, fierce body that was dominant and confidant; one that knew what it was doing as it moved against his own. Harry moaned, cutting the sound off himself as he bit his lip to stifle the it.

It was like he was high; his body was pounding with the way Voldemort thrust against him. Everything dropped out of existence. All he could do was bury his face in the older man's neck and breathe.

Voldemort's breathe was fierce against his neck, warm – fire, almost – on his neck. It sent shocks of…something down his back. He pulled away slightly to breathe and ended up staring straight into the man's crimson eyes. He held them and almost forgot how to breathe.

His hands reached out and Voldemort automatically grabbed them and entwined their fingers, holding them over the younger man's head; gripping them fiercely as he leaned further against the younger man so he could keep him propped up against the wall. Harry's hands tugged though and Voldemort snarled.

"Please," harry whimpered, pulling on his hands, "I need to touch you…" he murmured softly, so softly in fact his deep breathing almost obscured the words. The hands relented, and Harry's hands almost shot to the body against his own. They wrapped around the man's neck so his fingers met at the back, he ran his fingers over the skin at the nape of Voldemort's neck, he twined his fingers in the hair; feeling the difference between his own, twiddling it in his fingers slightly.

Once his fingers began to tingled, he moved back down, moving back to the front to push the elegant black robes from Voldemort's shoulder, the material stopping halfway as it caught at Voldemort's elbows.

Harry didn't notice though, he was arched back, his hands clutching Voldemort's shoulders as his mouth dropped open slightly with a long moan; his fingers digging into the man's shoulders. He couldn't really concentrate. He just wanted Voldemort. He wanted skin on skin. He wanted what made some of his most horrible memories back; the bliss, the feeling of euphoria.

Harry's hips rubbed against Voldemort's leg almost unconsciously as his fingers twined behind the man's neck again to bring him closer. The older man had shed his own robes, his hands moving to get rid of Harry's own, only Harry's shirt was removed as well.

The hands were on him again, though, so Harry really didn't care. He shouted as the man leaned forward, a mouth attacking his neck almost feverishly. Almost as if Voldemort had as much control as Harry did, which wasn't much at all. He felt a sharp pain and his body seized up in…pleasure and he screamed, high but short as his body froze in an arch. His hands gripped Voldemort, his fingers digging into the older man's back.

"To – Master," Harry moaned, his thighs clutching the leg between his own, almost as if it were his broom and something was trying to knock him off.

Voldemort growled and Harry thought he was going to be rebuked for using his Master's muggle name. He pushed forward fervently, trying to distract his Lord, but instead the man pulled him tighter.

"Say it, pet, say my name…"

Harry moaned with the words, nuzzling his face against the man's neck.

"Tom."

"Again," there was a nip on his collar bone as hands unfastened his pants.

"Tom!" Harry moaned, his own hands going to work on Voldemort's shirt, baring skin to the Boy Who Lived who eagerly moved to taste it Voldemort leaning back slightly to allow his pet some free reign.

"What do you want?" Voldemort ask, curiously, lust shining and evident in every movement he made.

"I want to touch you." Harry answered honestly; slightly surprised he was even able to sound coherent.

"You are…" Voldemort murmured as he buried his hands in the younger man's hair, petting him slightly.

"I want to … taste you."

"Where?" Voldemort demanded. His hands tightened in Harry's hair and the boy whimpered.

"Everywhere." He murmured confidently.

Voldemort pulled away and Harry whimpered, grabbing at him, trying to get him back.

"Stop. Immediately." Voldemort hissed.

Harry froze; his body was so used to being ordered around…he couldn't find it in himself to be disgusted by his actions.

Voldemort grabbed his arms and pulled Harry against him, his arms wrapping around the younger man's waist possessively. He moved backwards slowly, as Voldemort's knees hit this bed, he put his legs behind him slightly, climbing onto the bed backwards; pulling Harry with him, they both ended up on the bed; Harry lying against Voldemort's body. He whimpered as he grinded down, a moan leaving him as he closed his eyes and tried to ride the pleasure. Voldemort stopped his hips with his hands.

"I thought you wanted to taste me, pet." Voldemort murmured, his hands pulling through Harry's hair roughly.

Harry mumbled something that Voldemort found unimportant as the younger man kissed him; eager and sloppy, but needy and fierce. Harry moved away from Voldemort's lips though, moving down his jaw to the nape of his neck, kissing lightly, he couldn't mark the man beneath him. It was the other way around. Harry would be marked, but never Voldemort. Harry didn't feel he was allowed to leave marks.

He moved down the man's chest, pushing the older man's shirt more off his body so it settled around Voldemort's elbows.

Voldemort tasted heedy, something deep and intricate. He couldn't place a taste, not one. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, Voldemort's hands settling in his hair again as he lapped it. He moved further down at the insistence of Voldemort's wanting. A leg settled between his own and pushed up.

Harry gasped loudly, clutching his fists against Voldemort's chest as he bucked against it. He settled his body, letting his entire weight drop.

He moved further down though, trailing his tongue to the man's belly button, thrusting his tongue against it and a noise escaped him that couldn't quite be identified as Voldemort's hands tightened painfully in his hair and the leg pushed up against him again.

He did it again and Voldemort growled, arching off the bed. Inspired, Harry moved further down, nuzzling against the man's hip before taking him in his mouth. The man's hands froze up and he felt the restraint in them as the man arched off the bed and suppressed a groan.

Harry pulled away and he thought the man was going to force him back. "Why can't I ever hear you?"

Voldemort gasped, or he thought it was a gasp, before the man's eyes met his own.

"It's a weakness." Voldemort answered solidly.

Harry's face scrunched up and the only word for it was: cute. "No, it's not…it's hot…unrestrained." He murmured, ill lucidly.

Voldemort hummed as pleasure filled his eyes. "You _like_ hearing me, do you, pet?"

Harry flushed, realizing he'd said that out loud, his heart beat picked up even further from the rapid pace it'd been going and he felt embarrassment fill him, he buried his face against the man's hip again and fingers twined through his hair again.

The hand in his hair nudged him back to the straining erection only inches from his face and Harry obliged, lapping at the man, pulling him into his mouth, his hands gripped the sheets fiercely as he moved against Voldemort's leg.

The taste, the scent; he was going to go crazy soon. He needed it, and he had it, but it wasn't enough. He almost choked in his eagerness. Up down, up down. No matter how many times he did it, it wasn't enough. He pulled back to the head and sucked lightly, his teeth scratched just barely.

Voldemort hissed with the action, his body tensing up. It only encouraged Harry to continue as his tongue dipped into the slit that his mouth hid. He couldn't tell what Voldemort was feeling exactly, but he knew he was gone. He knew that as soon as this was over he wouldn't be able to do anything but lay there. He knew he was being used, used to the point there was nothing left of his original self, but some how, that loss of control took his arousal and his mind in hand, blowing them into the wind, making him soar. He felt like he was floating, his arousal was almost painful.

Voldemort groaned loudly and Harry whimpered with him just because of the sound. Spiraling, spinning, flying while he was falling. He almost opened his eyes, just to see if he really was on the bed.

It was too much though. All he could do was tighten his grips on the sheets, his knuckles white. He bucked against Voldemort's leg more rapidly, sucking the man with a force he didn't realize he was capable of as he waited for the full taste of the man in his mouth.

Voldemort's grip in his hair tightened and Harry knew what was coming as the man involuntarily let out a shout before cutting himself off. Then Harry was swallowing the man's essence greedily, his hands moving to rub up and down the man's sides, hips and up again.

His own body froze up and his world rocked as he buried his face in the contour of the older man's hip, catching his breath as the euphoria washed over him continuously, like small spurts of pleasure, similar to the ones he could feel in his mouth moments before.

"That was very…ingenious of you, Slytherin, even." Voldemort said as Harry's opened. "Sending me on a wild goose chase; to my father's tomb, only to find another note telling me where the Weasleys lived. I hadn't thought you'd awaken, and seemed to have forgotten myself. I'll be much more careful from now on before I leave. We wouldn't want you running away now, would we, pet?"

There was silence for sometime and Harry felt on edge as it continued. "Am I in trouble?" He finally asked softly.


	10. Breaking the Ties

A/N: Okay, so I know the story so far is ridiculously unbelievable. It was really suppose to be a one-shot. I don't know why I write these things. I'll try and give Harry his fire back. They'll probably be a lot of arguments and all that rot. I hope the characters agree with me. Some times they're hard to deal with.

* * *

Voldemort hummed behind him. "I haven't decided yet. Even if you were, I wouldn't tell you before hand. It'd be unexpected. The notes were easy enough since they were to me. The house elves know when and when not to bother me. I hadn't thought to think it was you who wrote them, why would I?" He murmured to himself.

"I admit I was frustrated when I arrived at my father's tomb. I hadn't wanted to be there at all, but it piqued my interest."

A hand grabbed his hair roughly though and Harry cried out in actual pain.

"If you ever do anything of the sort again, though, you will forgot who you are I'll have you in so much pain. If you ever leave, without my permission or myself, again, I'll break your leg so you can't escape, even if you want to. Do you understand me, pet?"

"Yes, sir." Harry answered weakly, trying to ignore the pain.

"Good, you're to shower and meet me in the Grand Hall. You'll be attending the meeting tonight." Voldemort spat before he left the bed.

Harry buried his face into his pillow and breathed deeply. He hated attending the meetings. Before, he could faze them out, and pretend they didn't exist, but now, now he had to acknowledge them or he'd be punished. He hadn't been to a meeting in a while. Months almost.

He got up to shower though; he knew that any further transgressions would seriously piss his master off. Well, more than the man was already.

About a half hour later he was sitting in the Grand Hall, leaning against his master's leg as the Death Eaters entered. It wasn't fifteen minutes into the meeting when Ron and Ginny were dragged into the room. Their screams were hoarse and terrified; hysterical as they were pulled and then thrown to the ground in front of Harry and Voldemort.

Harry watched in fear, his heart racing. Why did he feel like this? They didn't mean anything, they meant nothing! He tried to convince himself. It didn't matter; this was all he had now.

"Look at them, Harry," Voldemort's voice was cold and sadistic, "look what you've condemned your friends to. They're here because of you. Their pain is your fault; their death is your fault."

Harry's heart froze and he thought he was going to be sick. This was his punishment. He whimpered and buried his face in Voldemort's robes until a lithe hand gripped his hair with an unnatural strength and turned his head towards the torture.

Bellatrix held Ginny by the scruff of her hair while she tortured her with the _cruciatus, _smiling sickly sweet into her face as giggles left her.

Ron was being punched and kicked as he curled up on the ground, his screams ricocheting off the walls, joining his sisters in a monstrous sound.

Harry watched and his breathing came rapidly, but then it stopped all together and the atmosphere literally shifted and the lights were extinguished and there were screams. They weren't Ron's or Ginny's though. It took Harry a moment to realize they were his own, and then he was literally clawing at Voldemort as the man tried to restrain, but then it didn't matter. Voldemort was blown against the wall and Harry was feeling through the dark to his friends.

He was crying and now he knew; he knew why he felt empty inside and why that when he was with Voldemort he drowned himself in the pleasure and ran from the pain. These were his friends, his family.

He could ignore it when he didn't know it was happening. He could even ignore it if he was oblivious enough not to know what happened, but this was too much.

The wards broke under his fit and he felt them snap. He'd gone crazy. That was the only thing he could think of as he whispered 'portus' before he dropped whatever it was he had grabbed and dropped the item onto Ron before he pulled Ginny over.

"Safety," he whispered, watching them go.

He should have joined them, he thought belatedly as the lights flickered back on. Everyone was restrained against the walls, looking at him in anger, shock and awe.

He dropped to his knees in the middle of the room, all of them watching from a distance. Then he was in pain, excruciating pain that lit his body afire like the pines and needles that attacked your body after a part of it awoke. It was intensified though.

He didn't scream.

He would at least hold that. He was through. This was wrong. No matter how…pleasurable it had been and no matter how bloody stupid he had been to believe this façade to escape from the reality.

He didn't know how long he was under the curse, but as he kept his fists clenched and didn't waver under it the longer it went. He only realized how much pain he was in when blood dripped into his eye and then also out of his nose.

His vision started blacking out and that was the only movement he made as he fell to the side with it.


	11. It's All Lies, It Has To Be

Okay, believe it or not, this is the last chapter. So I hope you've all enjoyed the story thus far and will enjoy this chapter as well.

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Harry knew he was in for it when his prank went wrong, especially since he'd really wanted to piss Bellatrix off. Voldemort had grabbed him by his hair, dismissed his followers and then pulled him down the hall by his hair. He raved in Parsel tongue, man handling Harry in his anger until he threw the boy through a pair of double doors that led to his person rooms. He slammed the doors angrily before he turned on the boy, "Are you going to fight me after giving in for so long?"

There was silence and all Harry did was glare at him, his eyes a deep emerald green almost putting the green of Avada Kedavra from Voldemort's mind.

"I'm going to show you something, and Ill bask in your shame when you realize you actually want what you're fighting so hard to rid yourself of."

"There's nothing you could do to change me back to the disgusting being I was." Harry snarled, thrashing against the bindings Voldemort had on his hands and legs now that he'd let go of his hair.

"I indulge far too often when Gryffindors put up challenges like that. Imperio!"

Harry's body took on a tranquil state and he could feel Voldemort's mind slide across his own like snakes on skin.

"You've broken this once before, Harry, let us see where your will really lies."

Harry stood in the trance, his mind screaming for escape.

"_I can do this, it's just Imperio, and I've done it before_."

"Come here," Voldemort sat back on a lavish forest green, almost black, couch. "Come on to my lap."

Harry tried to grit his teeth as he felt his body begin to move towards the other man.

"I...hate."

"Aw, tell me how you really feel, Harry."

"I need you." Harry heard. The mortification took over and he was sure he was blushing with those words. Voldemort looked just as shocked as him though, so he felt a small flare of trump at putting the man off center.

"Indeed," Voldemort murmured, pleasure flaring on his countenance before his face closed off. Harry knew the man too well now though. He could see the almost giddy pleasure that had Voldemort anxious.

Harry decided that he needed to focus elsewhere as he sat on the man's lap.

They were in the man's study, or something. Book cases lined the walls. There were huge windows that lit up the room beautifully; the top of them had stained glass of different Slytherin emblems. It was very lavish...Very personal. Harry felt odd, he'd never been here. It also inspired dread in him. He was in trouble, yet he was being rewarded, sort of.

The warmth beneath him sparked a fire in his blood as he followed the command he was given.

"Look at me."

Harry did, unwilling but automatically.

"Why did you release them, Harry?"

Harry grimaced, it was like veritaserum but worse, he couldn't break the imperio; on some level, he wanted to tell the man.

"He was my friend...you had no right...I can't keep choosing between people I..." Love.  
He broke the Imperio with the absolute refusal to admit that he loved the man. That he was...loving the man, let alone letting him know, who had been cruel to him.

He sagged against the older man as it broke, his energy gone with his will.

"Please, don't." he almost begged, his face buried in the man's shoulder.

Harry froze though, his body going stiff, as arms enfolded him.

"What do you want?"

Harry would late hope that it had been remnants of imperio that made him confess what he did, but as he answered, he knew it was an unfounded hope.

"For you to need me, as badly as I need you." Harry felt the arms tighten around him, and as he felt his consciousness slip, he knew that it had been a dream and that soon he'd wake up in a horrible reality.

Harry woke up in bed and knew that his dream had ended. He knew that he would have to deal with the struggle again and the hate. He wished he could keep his eyes closed forever; ignore the hand trailing across his back as Voldemort walked by. He wished he could pretend to be asleep and for Voldemort to actually believe it.

The first thing that he realized was it wasn't his bed. The second that it wasn't his room. The third being that Voldemort was in baggy silver silk pants and a matching robe that looked flimsy compared to normal everyday robes; the man was in his pajamas.

As many times as they'd…done things together, Harry couldn't remember a time when the man looked so bare and basic...quite literally. The man had a toned physique. He didn't look like a fighter, he looked sinister. He looked like a man who would take what he wanted without remorse, and Harry supposed that's how he was anyway. Voldemort looked like a grown man who'd been pushed to his limits in order to succeed. Harry looked like a boy, an adolescent. He felt dread in his stomach but looked at the man; nonetheless, he felt the heat in his face.

The older man tilted his head and stretched his arms far above his head. "What shall we do today, Harry?"

The young man froze for a minute. It was odd. So very odd to hear his name from the man's lips and not the usual horrible emotion and tone that came with it.

"Sleep…I don't ever want to wake up from this dream."


End file.
